Cradle Song
by onthewayside
Summary: He’s never been one for pretty words, but he’s suddenly found more than enough reasons to use them. Implied JE


**Spoilers: **None.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Atlantis or any of its characters. Just borrowing them for a little while to fulfill my own imaginative needs.

**Note**: Sorry for the lack of writing in the last little while—work has taken over a fair bit of my life recently, and as such, I've been sleeping rather than writing for the last month. Anyhow, here's my latest creation: a mix of sappiness and fluffiness and John-with-baby-ness. The baby doesn't have a name in this fic simply because I couldn't come up with a good one, in case anyone was wondering--and the title was originally "Lullaby", but due to finding another story with the same name, I switched it to a synonym of said word. Probably not one of my better ones, but I think it's sweet : ) Hope you all like it!

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**Cradle Song**

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There is hardly a stirring of air as the night begins its slow transformation into morning, but it is a true relief to have such peace. Such silence has become rare as of late—a commodity that he had begun believing would not be available to him for a long time yet. So he takes advantage of the moment, advantage of the quiet to let his mind finally clear.

A rosy pink light is filtering through the large window, only just starting to illuminate the shadows that have hidden in the room overnight. It reaches out with blush-coloured tendrils to wrap around his form and the form currently situated very carefully, and very tenderly, in his cradled arms.

He had thought she couldn't get any more beautiful, but apparently he had been wrong. Under the morning sun, her soft skin glows, her cheeks brighten to a warm red, and her wide blue eyes are sparkling brighter than any star he can think of. Not a man of poetry or pretty words, a part of him wonders where this sudden descriptive nature has sprung from, wonders how a cocky flyboy could come up with such flowery descriptions when most of his life has been spent in places were elegant words were not required.

But then another part of him knows. Knows why he's suddenly fallen prone to thinking of stars and sparkles and softness and light. Knows exactly why he's sitting by the window at six in the morning, relinquishing sleep to hold the little bundle in his arms while he still can. In a few more hours there will be people up and about, demanding his attention—demanding hers too—and he'll be stuck dealing with the real world while the day passes by.

He had wanted some time with her, needed to have a moment where he could really look at her before another day moves along and she's just that much older. A moment where he could let the soft grin he's so miserable at repressing shine, truly shine. She's been in the world a few days now, but he hasn't had the time to really sit down and learn the intricacies of her miniature face, to see her little nose wrinkle as she yawns from the residues of her night.

Many people have told him how lucky he is that she's started off her first few days in the world sleeping through the night. Kate had come by to visit the new family yesterday, spending much of her time making silly faces at the baby and telling her two superiors horror stories about her nieces and nephews. Carson, too, had mentioned how blessed they were to have a child that seemed to understand normal sleeping habits, though he had forewarned them not to count on it lasting for long.

In fact, it seems to be a trend amongst human civilization that new parents should be informed about the potential traumas that could very well be apart of their child's life. Even Elizabeth—despite her collected nature—can't hide her shock at some of the tales that are coming out of the labs, particularly when Zelenka feels the urge to spout off stories about his infamous evil nephew.

Hell, if Earth was ever looking for an alternative to birth control, they could always send their candidates to Atlantis. There doesn't seem to be a single person in the entire city who has a story about children that ends in a 'happily ever after'. But the stories he hears don't phase him, especially since he's already gone through the whole doubting stage when his wife of then two-and-a-half weeks had cornered him in the mess hall and told him the news.

Back then, he hadn't been sure if having children was such a great idea, especially when they lived in a galaxy that seemed doomed to constant turmoil. The Wraith, thankfully, had become less of a threat by then, but there was always something—or someone—new on the horizon to worry about, and having young, defenseless kids around would not be a positive addition to the package. Elizabeth had echoed the sentiment, but neither of them were willing to let go of the opportunity quite so readily.

Yet it wasn't until Liz had mentioned a sharp pain in her stomach, until he had rushed her to the medical lab as the pain doubled her over, until Carson had warned them that due to her age the pregnancy may not be carried through, that John had realized just how much he wanted the baby.

And though the trepidation lingered on even after mother and child had been given the all clear, the soon-to-be parents started to look forward to having an addition to the family. They had gone apartment hunting using the city layouts to refine their search, finally finding a comfortable suite that could house a few more people than the one they had been living in. Friends had offered their services to help fix the place up, and between meetings and missions and mania that only the Pegasus galaxy could deliver, the once-empty rooms became a cozy, furnished home.

As the months passed, a sort of domestic peace had settled over the weary souls of the leader and her second-in-command. There had suddenly been a kitchen to cook in, a room with couches and chairs and a hand-carved Athosian coffee table to prop tired feet on, a small balcony that wasn't privy to eyes of everyone in the city. He developed a particular fondness for the master bedroom with the spacious, pillow-covered bed, and Elizabeth had nearly cried in delight when she had taken her first bath in the welcoming tub of their bathroom.

Then there was the other room—a room that had only just begun getting created. A room that had started out with nothing but a small wooden cradle and was soon crammed with books and toys and all the necessities a baby's room needed. There are paintings hanging on the walls now, and brightly-coloured flowers near the window, and a rocking horse that Caldwell had personally delivered on behalf of the Daedelus crew.

And now there is something else in that room too. A living, breathing little girl who already has her mother's smile and her father's charm, and has half of the city in the palm of her hand.

And, with a simple toothless grin, has Daddy wrapped around her tiny little finger.

The beaming smile reaches his eyes as he cuddles the blanket-wrapped bundle, as he looks at the daughter he had never dreamed he could have, at the little girl who's so easily and so quickly become his world. He cannot help but marvel at how easy she is to hold, how easy it is to watch her as she looks around at her surroundings, seeing everything for the first time.

He knows things aren't always going to be this easy, but he figures that those days are far in the future. One day she's going to be a beautiful young woman with the world at her feet, but right now she's just a carefully held package of blankets and bright blue eyes that are gazing inquisitively up into his own.

She makes a little whimpering sound, wriggles in his grasp, and he tries to gently bounce her around, the way he's seen Elizabeth do it. It feels awkward, but it seems to work because she settles down a little.

"A few more minutes, that's all your mom needs," He murmurs quietly. She seems to like the sound of his voice, for she fully ceases in her squirming to study him with an scrutinizing gaze. So he continues on as she watches with rapt attention, overly pleased that he can calm her down. "Your mom's a busy lady, you know. Even when she's supposed to be on holiday, this city still comes knocking at our door. You can blame Uncle Rodney for disturbing your naps—he's always playing with things he shouldn't be touching. But you're going to learn all about that when you get older."

He walks her over to the window of her nursery, so the light can catch on every pretty feature of her face. He doesn't know why but he feels a need to talk, feels a need to explain a few things to his daughter now, before she can protest or accuse him of being sentimental. So he lets the words come, doesn't hesitate no matter how silly they may sound in the otherwise empty room.

"It won't take long before you're gonna get older. Much older. You're going to learn how to walk, how to talk, how to throw food like a whiz. You're a Sheppard you know, that means your aim is going to be great. Just don't tell your mom, she might not forgive me for passing those genes on to you."

"You're going to learn how to read too, and then you're going to learn how to write and play with numbers. There are so many things you're going to learn that there's going to be times when it gets a little frustrating. There are going to be times when you don't want to learn any more, but you'll get past it. Your mom and I will help you every step of the way, and soon you'll be smarter than everyone in the city. You'll even give our geek squad a run for their money."

His voice softens, his tone roughens a little as he holds her closer. "You're going to learn that the world isn't black and white and that it can be a pretty scary place sometimes. You're going to learn that mommy worries more than she should, that she has a lot of responsibility to deal with. You're going to learn that daddy can't always be there for you or your mom, and that he's going to have to leave you both sometimes to help other people."

"But he'll always fight for you, no matter what happens." He's whispering now, a ferocity behind his words that shakes him to the core. "I'm never going to stop protecting you. No one is ever going to stop, not your mom, not Uncle Carson or Ronon or Rodney, or your Aunt Teyla or Laura—everyone will be there for you. You're going to have an entire city watching out for you, kiddo. That's more than a lot of kids can say."

"There's one more thing though, one last thing you're going to learn. And it's going to be the most important lesson of all." Those widened eyes never leave his as he draws her even closer, the sweet baby smell tickling his senses, and he feels his throat constrict by a fraction. "You're going to learn that I love you. That I'll never stop loving you, no matter how much trouble you get into, or how loud you're going to blast your music, or how many Puddlejumpers you crash."

"I'm going to love you no matter what. I might not always say it, I might not always show it, but it'll always be there. You're stuck with me, you know—with me and your mom. And you're going to learn what it's like to get stuck with two parents who love you more than anything else in the whole wide world."

She just looks up at him with those big blue eyes as he clears his throat to loosen the pressure that is beginning to build. He'd like to think that she understands just a bit of what he's been saying, that even though she can't return the words now, she can still grasp just an ounce of the depth of her parents adoration. He knows it will get harder to say such things when she's older, wonders if he'll be able to open up as easily when he knows she understands him perfectly.

When she's older a lot of things will change, but right now she's a healthy baby with ten little fingers and ten little toes and two inquisitive eyes. In a few more minutes she's going to be hungry, and Elizabeth's sleep will have to come to an abrupt end. Meanwhile he will be relegated to keeping an eye on the city while his daughter gets a few hours older and takes another step towards becoming the wonderful woman he's certain she's going to be.

So he holds the bundle of blankets closer to his chest, keeps his eyes trained carefully on her curious face, memorizes every small feature from her tiny ears to her stubborn chin and lets the last few rays of dawn herald the beginning of a new day.

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End file.
